


Bullet to My Valentine

by CarrieJames



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Agent Zayn Malik, Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Best Friends, But Louis has a secret, But i honestly know nothing from first-hand experience so sorry if this is inacurate, Childhood Friends, Crime Fighting, FBI Agent Louis Tomlinson, Falling In Love, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Friends to Lovers, Harry Styles Loves Louis Tomlinson, Hurt/Comfort, Inspired by James Bond, Louis Tomlinson Loves Harry Styles, Louis is basically 007, M/M, MI5 Agent Louis Tomlinson, Nurse Harry Styles, Nurse Niall Horan, Overcoming fears, Police Officer Liam Payne, Reunited and It Feels So Good, That he can't share, Zayn and Louis are in the MI5, a bunch of bad guys, i think this is a, maybe a little smut, my boys love love, or i guess
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2020-06-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:15:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23579008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarrieJames/pseuds/CarrieJames
Summary: UNDER EDITING I'M SORRY IT MAKES ABSOLUTELY NO SENSE PLEASE COME BACK LATER IF YOU WANT TO ENJOY : )Seriously, I'm rewriting be ware xLouis Tomlinson has the best job, he's sure of it. No job imaginable could come above it.There are a few drawbacks though.Not only is it life-consuming and incredibly dangerous, but it's also top-secret.Louis thinks he's doing a good job at balancing it all, at least he was until he was reunited with his childhood BFF and then it's suddenly harder than it had ever been before.So, yeh, Louis does have the best job.But for Harry, he might just be about to risk it all.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15





	1. Prologue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry, age 5 and Louis, age 7 have very few worries. Arch Evil is one of them.

-15 Years Prior-

"Harry! Harry! I know what we should do!" Louis exclaims out of the blue, eyes full of youthful excitement.  
"What Lou?" The other boy replies, pausing his collection of acorns to address his friend.  
"We can play polices! And Archie can be the bad guy!" Louis eyes shone as he revealed the idea.  
"Yes! Come on I see him!" Harry replies in gusto, grubby hands grappling for the older boy as they run back towards the house. Archie the curly-haired labradoodle jumps around in response, joyful yips and squeaks matching those of the young boys.  
Together they become crime-fighters, tackling the heinous crimes of Evil Arch (or Arch-Evil, they couldn't decide), running around and diving behind trees, smearing mud on their faces as camouflage. Later, they would get reprimanded for their messiness at the diner table, but young boys never did care. Dirty fingernails and tangled hair were worn with pride. A leaf was pinned to Louis chest- the mark of a chief.  
"Lou! Watch out! He's getting away!" Harry shrieks in panic, watching the blonde labradoodle trot off towards the house.  
"Don't worry, Agent Lou has it under control!" The blue-eyed boy shouts as he races across the grass.  
"Get him Agent Lou!"


	2. London

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After spending the last year in NYC, Louis is finally given some good news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my lovely people! How are we all? All good? I hope so :-)  
> This fic is a little treat to myself for finally finishing Smiling In The Dark. I've got it all planned out, and boy are we in for a wild ride! I love me some espionage, almost as much as I love our boys! So I'm excited to see how far I get carried away with this one haha.  
> Anyway. That's besides the point. Irrelevant. I hope you enjoy <3

On a messy bed, Louis awakes. The room is cool, and his sheets are warm, but his alarm has already sounded twice and getting up has become a necessity. He blinks a few times, dark eyelashes fluttering in the shady room. He swipes a hand across his face like it will wipe away his grogginess. It doesn't. So the 22-year-old forces himself out of his cocoon, his bare feet sinking into the cool carpet.  
He wishes that he had gotten more sleep- a common occurrence really- but a strong brew will have to subsidize that if he wants to report on time. Lateness is (mostly) a thing of his past.  
With a wide yawn and a stretch, Louis shuffles his way around his king-sized double bed. A burgundy throw, once draped carefully at the foot, is now lying abandoned and tangled on the floor. He almost stumbles on the offending object, thankfully catching himself in the last second. His clumsiness is a trait which only surfaces when he is most relaxed, or in his current state, half asleep. The silver Ulysse Nardin watch on his bedside serves as proof of that. Along side his phone and his watch, a sleek black clock is ticking away. 07:23am it reads in red lines. He's not too late then- has a full half an hour before he must leave his room.  
Stepping into the bathroom, he turns the shiny silver handle clock-ways to turn on the shower. The temperature rises quickly, one of the many perks of his stay at The Langham, and soon there is steam filling the room. Although he is eager to leave the place, the expensive overhead shower is something he's sure to miss. The beautiful décor of his suite will certainly be another. 

As he exits the shower for the last time, he wraps a warm and fluffy towel around his waste. He makes sure to shave a clean face, and to comb through the wet tangles in his hair before he exits the room. With a final glance in the mirror to approve of his cleanliness, he walks out of the bathroom and towards the atrium window. His mind was alert now thanks to his shower. Alert enough to open the curtains anyhow, a task he often faces begrudgingly.  
Once dressed in a neatly pressed suit, Louis dabs on a little cologne. The silver bottle is light- nearly empty- was gifted to him by his mother before he left. She always was the best at gifts. She always wraps them up in re-used tissue paper, leaving hand-written notes folded into each layer. 'Love has languages' Louis had heard once. 'Acts of giving and receiving, praising and expressing gratitude". If love really does have languages, then presents are definitely one of his mothers.  
Just to startle him from his reverie, his final alarm begins ringing out. It reminds him of where he needs to be in just a few short minutes, and so the man jumps into action before he is late. As he leaves the room for the last time, his phone is the only thing that he reaches to bring. 

Whilst on his way to work, Louis likes to observe. It was never that way before he began his job, but through love for his skill, he has found ambition to better himself. Without practice he would never have been offered the position that he has now. He hates the thought of it.  
In the heart of New York the streets are always busy. A lady in her mid-thirties pushes past, a phone pressed to her ear. She's followed by a tall man in a crisp suit and then a teen with hair so luminous he thought it to be impossible. Though the sun can often be deceptive from his sky-scraping window view, today it brings a long-awaited warmth. It had been overcast for a while now, but springtime had just begun. A hanging-basket of fresh flowers is decorating a shop-front, the windows showcasing breakfast foods of all shapes and size. If it weren't for his sharp black suit, Louis would have been tempted. 

The air inside the office building is cool and crisp and for a moment it burns his eyes. His blue iris are brightened with tears, but he soon blinks them away.  
Erwin, the receptionist raises a hand and smiles in greeting, one which Louis gladly returns. The lad had been a great help during his first-day navigation (or lack thereof), and was pleasant to talk to.  
Each and every surface holds a reflection in the building, all of them polished and smooth. His dress shoes click as he makes his way through the hallways. He's headed to a meeting room on the 46th floor of the building. Its a staggering height, most certainly taller than any building he'd been in before. Every building in NYC seemed to be that way, and when he fist arrived, it took his breath away. Height doesn't make him dizzy the way it used to now, but no matter how comfortable he gets, that niggling worry at the back of his head never shuts up. It sounds awfully like his mothers voice. 

"Morning, Mr Tomlinson" Louis is addressed as soon as he enters the room. He appears to be the last to arrive, though he is certain that he's right on time. In this profession, it pays to always be early.  
"Morning" He greets back, nodding his head to each person at the table.  
"Shall we begin?" Another member prompts, turning to address the blue-eyed boy. "What have you got for us then?"


	3. Jaguar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis finally arrives back in England, and catches up with a friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely people! How are we all? I hope you're all well.  
> I'm excited for this fic, it seems to be coming together very nicely indeed!  
> Enjoy : ) x

A shiny black Jaguar flies down the A1 Southbound. Its nearing one in the morning and the car is alone. Solitude leaves Louis no choice but to push the speed on the cruise control up, watching the shadows as they dance across the empty lanes. He hopes the action is enough to keep his mind alert but his eyelids are heavy and he's warm and relaxed.  
Aside from the dull scenery, there isn't much to capture the Agents attention. The radio is as good as useless at this time in the night, and he has no one to talk to aside from himself. In honesty he has never thought himself to be good company. His thoughts are always too loud.  
Resting on the leather upholstery of the back seat of his car sits a tin of cupcakes made by his sisters. When he left his mothers after a short visit, his siblings clung to him and cried. Their tears hurt his heart, but he couldn't find the words nor the sense to comfort their misunderstandings about his early departure. His job is dangerous, and secret. Fatality isn't rare. The saying goes- 'what you don't know can't hurt you' and every time he leaves his family, the guilt of not telling them weighs a little more heavily. He's tempted to explain why he must leave, however the reality of his profession means the information may very well leave them worse for wear.  
Never mind his guilt though, he'll arrive home in less than an hour and for that reason he is more content than he has been in a long while. There was once a time in his life when his only home was with his mother and his siblings. Of course, he will always find home there, but as he grows older he finds that nothing can quite compete with his London flat. It's quiet, calm, and a space which he claims as his own. He can do with it what he pleases, never any need to censor himself. His walls are the color that he chose, and the food in the cupboards is his to eat. He can blast whatever music he wants and have guests over any time of the day. It's his haven. 

The next morning, and the empty flat has an inhabitant for the first time in a year. As the sun reaches halfway across the sky, a knock sounds through the slumbering silence. Louis cracks an eye at the disturbance, but there's not much to see but the swirling particles of dust that remind Louis he hasn't vacuumed in over a year. The sound of the front door opening and then slamming is the next commotion, but before he can panic the sleepy boy recognizes the pattern of the footsteps.  
"Lou?" Zayn calls out. "How many times do I have to tell you to lock the bloody door?" As always his efforts receive no reply. The older of the two simply doesn't understand why he should lock his door when he lives in MI5 accommodation. Surely nothing could be safer?  
"Are you still in bed?" Zayn's voice gets even more critical as he addresses the brunet for a second time. He rounds the corner just in time to watch his friend burrow further into his sheets.  
"Time is it?" Calls a muffled voice from under the covers. The sound is crackly and mumbled.  
"Half past the fucking middle of the day" Zayn deadpans, though Louis would bet any money that his friend was sound asleep until not so long ago. The only reply the intruder gets is a middle finger pushed into the air. 

"So how are the family?" The brown-eyed boy asks over lunch. (Or a late breakfast for some). The pair are sat at a square table-for-two, tucked away in a corner of their favorite Italian restaurant. Louis finishes a cheesy bite of his pizza before he answers. He describes how they'd spent the evening sat together in the family room, a Disney movie playing along to itself. He'd played silly games with the littles, and talked about school with the teens. His family is large, featuring a collection of 6 siblings. Neither agent mentions how difficult it is to lie to them, yet it's acknowledged in private pauses. Their chatter is idle, matching the buzz of people in the busy restaurant. The lighting is dim, hung from matt white chandeliers but the sun streaming through the tall windows warms the sides of their faces. Both men are dressed in casual attire, denim jackets hung from the backs of the wooden chairs. The air is warm and welcoming. 

Later that same day, and they sip coffee (tea for Louis) back in the flat. Their easy conversation turns to work- an unavoidable topic really. Zayn and Louis have been close since the younger of the two was enrolled in Louis' sector, yet they still maintain a good working relationship. They flourished through several grueling cases together, Zayn responding well to the kind-hearted and friendly guidance that came from Louis, who is, in effect, Zayn's boss.  
Louis is one of the youngest Elites to ever grace the organization.  
It's quite the achievement, one that he is rightfully proud of, even though some of the elders seem to forget to respect him. A few of them are skeptical of his ability, and his insistence on bending tradition. He pays them no notice (and takes great pride in his name). Zayn has always thought much the same.  
"What are we dealing with Z?" The Elite Agent, pr EA, asks, eager to bring himself up to date with whoever they're currently dealing with.  
"He's a businessman, making most of his money in conservatory construction of all things. He grew up poor in a troubled neighborhood, got involved with the wrong crowd despite a stable home life. He's been charged for various reasons over the years, always skirting around serious jail-time. It's non-conf but he's been caught associating with La Rouge too frequently for it to be insignificant. He's been on a watch list for the last three decades, and yet no one can seem to catch him red-handed. In the last year though, he has taken up a very public interest in politics. Seems set on making a name for himself." Zayn informs.  
"Is that all for the time being?" Louis asks, his furrowed brows crinkling his forehead.  
"He's gone and purchased himself plenty of guns, ammo too. He was searched for them but again, no hard evidence. He also transferred a big share of his holds overseas." Zayn's eye's flit to Louis in recognition of the grunt he lets out.  
"So he's up to something" The older of the two agrees.  
"Definitely. And if anyone of us is going to find out what, its you Lou. You always were the best."


	4. Payne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two worlds collide.

Two days later, and the same troubled expression paints Louis face. The window to his right casts a cloud-bleached whitewash over the man, his face is crinkled and his jaw is set firmly. He's hunched over a silver laptop, eyes skimming over an email in pursuit of every last detail. At the wrists of his blazer, his buttoned cuffs catch on the edge of the keyboard, yet it doesn't bother him. His eyes move fast, reading and re-reading in single-minded concentration to ensure that he has read it properly.  
He stands then, draining the last of his tea before he shuts the laptop and stores the item in a leather satchel. The blue-eyed man slings the wide strap over his shoulder before he runs a delicate hand through his tousled hair. His hand slides through the smooth strands without tangle, but the length is bothering the tops of his ears. A mental note is made to book an appointment.  
When he steps outside, the cool air raises bumps on his arms. Although his graphite-grey suit appears thick, it lets the breeze in without interruption and leaves the man wishing he had brought a coat. In effort to preserve heat he buttons the blazer around himself tightly. It doesn't really help. He needn't walk far though, and says a prayer of gratitude for the pricey car that awaits just a few steps away. With an orange burst of light, the doors unlock and he is welcomed into the drivers seat and away from the elements. The leather, despite chilling his skin at first, has heating wired through it, and with the push of a button he is warm once again. 

Jerome Anthony Poole age 47 has (in Louis opinion) become irreversibly unsettled. 

St Thomas hospital. The hospital, although first and foremost part of a prestigious teaching program, is also open to the general public. Louis has never entered the building before today, but his first impressions are positive. A nurse with long blonde hair walks past him with a smile. The building smells sterile, and the halls are quiet. Louis can tell that this is a place where emergency is dealt with promptly and with careful precision. The kind-looking face of the lady at the reception is confirmatory. She asks for his name, then directs him to a bed on the third floor of the building. Ward 11, bed 4. Before making his way there, he thanks her with a genuine smile. 

"Officer Payne?" Louis asks, meeting a pair of wide brown eyes. The man lifts the corners of his lips and welcomes the other man in.   
"You must be Agent EA7 then?" He vacillates, speaking with an uncertainty that most acquire when talking about the MI5. He doesn't blame him. The organisation can be very confusing- daunting even- to those who don’t know a great deal about them. It took Louis months to learn even the most basic ins and outs, and still today he feels that he doesn’t quite know it all.  
"That would be me, though the names usually Mr. Tomlinson. It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm sorry it must be under these circumstances" He replies with a polite tone. His mother had taught him to always be kind to strangers.  
"Likewise, and I'm grateful for your compassion, but It's all in a days work for us isn't it?" The officer reasoned with the agent before gesturing for the man to take a seat. The hospital chair is uncomfortable in a way that they always are. Louis takes it anyway.  
"So, Officer Payne" He begins, pausing for a moment to retrieve a file from his satchel. "Would you mind running me through what happened?" The other man doesn't stall before he responds.  
"I was responding to a callout late last night, around 11 pm. A worried neighbor reported some shady activity near the Radcot Street area. Two men, around 6ft in all black were conversing in a dark corner. They fled in different directions immediately so we split up and followed on foot, caught up with one of them in Archbishops park. He tried to give me the slip, but he was relatively unfit and I caught up to him quickly. He pulled out a shotgun when he realised how quickly I was gaining him and fired back at me blindly, catching my shoulder. That's where I lost him. Think he left the park North, past the playground, but I can't be sure." His brown eyes flit uneasily around the room, his forehead tensed in memory.  
"Do you, by any chance, know what happened to the other bloke?" Louis asks gently, bringing the troubled officer back into the room.  
“Steve- the officer I was partnered with- he ran after him. Caught up with the bloke in the next street, climbing into a black Mercedes before speeding off. Steve lost the bloke obviously, but it’s worth checking.” Liam suggests with sincerity in his eyes. The agent was already on that, but he nods his assent nevertheless. “I’ll be sure to check it thoroughly” He responds while scribbling something on the back of the file. The scratching pencil joins the quiet din of the ward, various machines beeping in time. The sound reminds Louis again of the seriousness of the situation, and of how lucky Officer Payne is to have only received such minor injury.  
“Thank you, Officer Payne. I hope you’re reworded for your service” The blue-eyed boy acknowledges sincerely. He watches as the other man opens his mouth to reply, and how he is then cut short by a male voice behind the curtain. It’s deep and gravely, commanding attention whilst remaining soft and soothing. It takes a second for Louis to realise that the voice belongs to Liams nurse. “Come in” The Officer calls, clearly oblivious to Louis momentary distraction.  
The curtain pulls back, taken into a large hand adorned with many shining rings. It reveals muted green scrubs before anything else, then long legs and a strong body. Shoulders set on a wide rib cage and a slim waste. Lastly, Louis eyes flicker up to the mans face, catching a beautiful shade of green staring right back. Their familiarity shocks the life from his body, capturing all the air in his lungs.  
“Harry” Liam calls from the bed just next to him. He takes the name straight from Louis mouth.  
He almost chokes on his tongue in effort to get a grip on his emotions. It’s just that he never thought he would see those eyes again. He’d dreamed of this day. 

Harry moves into the room-or at least Louis thinks that he does, but he remains so entranced by green eyes that he notices little else. He’s vaguely aware of someone talking, though it’s a muffled sound and it takes a long moment before he gets the urge that he should leave Liam to his privacy whilst he gets checked over. It’s with no conscious thought at all that he begins gathering his belongings. His reluctance to step away is stronger than any sensibility he can muster. Those eyes are tugging at every fibre of his being, calling out to him and drawing him closer.  
They stare at him, even as he turns to gather himself. He can feel them, burning into him and acutely familiar.  
It’s making his heart pound loudly in his ears.  
“It was a pleasure to meet you, E- I mean, Mr Tomlinson” He is startled by Liam’s voice.  
“Likewise” He replies after a long moment, and then he finds it in himself to glance in the patients general direction. “I hope you’re well again soon” He continues, making eye contact with brown eyes as soon as he remembers his manners.  
“No worries about me.” The man replies in attempt to put Louis at ease. “I only wish for your safety”  
After a minute of consideration, and a dismissive shake of his head, Louis stands to take the hand of Liams uninjured arm.  
“That, Mr Payne, is merely a matter of unimportance” He replies while shaking the hand firmly.


	5. Estate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If he could, please and thank you, Louis would like all of his time to be taken up by Harry.  
> Sadly, his wishes aren't often granted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a blast writing this one, so I hope you all enjoy!

After finally gathering his wits enough to leave the cubicle, Louis hesitates. A nurse almost crashes into him, and he apologizes quickly. Then he moves closer to the wall of the corridor, wondering what in the heck he thinks he's doing. It’s been a seemingly endless stretch of time since Louis last saw those green eyes.  
Now that he has, he wants their attention more than ever.  
Against every one of anxiety-ridden insecurities, he decides to stay.  
His heart is mocking him, shouting that he was a fool to even consider walking away.

During a tense ten minute wait, the blue-eyed boy becomes entranced by the past. He remembers his youth, spent in nature almost entirely. He can count his childhood days spent indoors on one hand. His accomplice in nearly everything was the son of a neighbouring family, two years Louis younger and yet the sensible head of the two.  
Louis had been heartbroken when he was forced to move away from his best friend. An hour away at that! How was he ever supposed to see him again?  
His mother had promised them that they would see each other soon. Yet to this day, they never did meet. One or two phone calls had been exchanged, along with Christmas and Birthday presents (all in one for Louis who was graced with a Christmas Eve birthday). However aside from that, their parents were too caught up in their divorces to entertain their children’s wishes.  
Louis was angry with his mother. He wore a scowl on his face for months after they moved. How could she take him away from his home? From the most important boy in his life? All while divorcing his father? To Louis this was despicable and incomprehensible.  
Once he grew up and into his senses, he began to understand the gravity of what had happened. Their mothers had enough on their plates. He understands now. Yet he still misses Harry every day. Memories still catch him unaware in his vulnerable moments. When he is brave, he still pores over the old photos of the pair of them. They may have lost contact at 14, but he had their photo pinned to his bedroom wall well into his late teens.  
With his adult perspective, he's sure that he loved that boy. Youthful, oblivious love. Love all the same. 

"Louis?" His voice calls. It's a voice that the older boy will have bouncing around his head for the rest of his life. He turns on the spot, eyes meeting green once again. A jolt leaves him breathless.  
"Harry" He whispers back, uttering the name he's spent years agonizing over.  
He watches entranced as a tall body draws closer, green scrubs and green eyes and pink lips growing nearer. Dark eyelashes and dark curly hair, a shadow of stubble on his upper lip. A warm body against his, strong arms pulling him in tight and safe. His scrubs smell like hospital, so he moves his head and presses his nose to the base of Harry's throat, drawing his arms up to link them around his waist. He leans forwards, weight pressing him further into the embrace.  
"When did you get so tall?" Louis asks through a wet chuckle, his voice clogged with emotion.  
"When did you get so small?" A deep voice shoots back, all teasing and elated. Louis can hardly hear the quiet tone over his own heartbeat. It's quiet for a stretch of seconds, both men content to stay in their embrace long after they should have pulled away. Louis considers doing it, but he's a weak man.  
"I've missed you more than anything" Louis whispers under his breath, letting fate decide whether Harry hears it or not. He's ridiculously anxious at the admission. For a second he's disappointed that it did go unheard, as Harry begins to pull back. He's relieved when they stay close though, the other man only pulling back enough to peer at Louis face. He does so with reverence, like he wasn't certain this was real until he saw Louis face again. His smile is astounding, denting dimples into his cheeks that Louis tries not to swoon too noticeably at. He probably does anyway.  
With one last tight squeeze, the taller man takes a step back. "I've missed you every single day" He murmurs through stretched lips, and Louis heart sings as he realizes that not only did Harry hear what he said, but he also returns the sentiment.  
Just as quickly his heart sinks as his phone starts vibrating in his blazer pocket. His smile drops from his face. It's work. He has to answer. 'I'm sorry' he mouths. He reaches for Harry's hand so that he'll stay.  
"Hello?" He answers, twiddling a ring absentmindedly. He shoos away the sudden revelation that his Harry may very well be married with all these rings. He doesn't enjoy the sour feeling that the notion brings.  
"Have you got the statement?" Zayn asks without introduction. He likes to get to the point. Louis sighs.  
"Yes I have the statement." He replies in monotone, trying to convey that he's busy.  
"Are you on your way then? We need you for a meeting. It's compulsory." The agent demands  
"Who says it's compulsory? I thought that was my job?" He challenges, knowing that Zayn likes to bend the rules sometimes. It's something that should bother him-being an EA agent should command respect. Louis and Zayn have never really been like that though.  
"Just get your ass here, we need a briefing before he does anything else stupid" The other man snaps. It prompts Louis to shut his eyes in exasperation, bringing his hand (and consequently Harry's knuckles) to his forehead with a thump and a sharp sigh. There are no hard feelings between the two, but they can sure rile each other up sometimes. Louis just likes to be difficult and Zayn has a short temper when dealing with it. He takes another deep breath before he replies.  
"He won't do anything. He's nothing but a coward on the run at the moment. Look, I'm still on the ward, can you give me a minute?" He retorts. A fluttering of butterflies swarm his stomach as one of Harry's fingers break loose. It smooths the crease in his forehead.  
"What are you even doing?" Zayn breaks the moment with his loud demanding voice. Louis has had enough.  
"I'm hanging up. Bye" He calls, bringing the phone from his face, watching the screen illuminate with the worst mug shot of Zayn as he could find. The boy is model worthy. In Louis phone, only he is allowed that title.  
"LOUIS! DON"T YOU DARE!" He hears a tiny little voice shout.  
"Bye!" He takes immense pleasure in ending the call. Then he sighs, staring at the black screen for a second.  
"I have to go" The boy admits. It might be the last thing he wants, but responsibility calls for him. He meets sparkling green eyes fleetingly, but watches as they flicker down to his phone. A big hand goes to reach for it, but Louis stops him quickly.  
"Work phone" He reasons, searching his pockets for his personal phone before handing it to the taller man. "You can have this one though"  
While he types out what Louis can only assume is his number, he breaks into yet another smile. His dimples dent his cheeks, a tuft of curls falling into his face. All urges to shift the wayward hair are thankfully ignored, however not without gargantuan effort.  
When they part, it's not for want. Neither is ready to walk away just yet. It is, however, in need. Both are called to responsibility. Their last smile is wistful and adoring. 

The shape of Harry's name in his phone has his heart singing. Each line and curve and swoop makes his chest flutter and his stomach sink. It fills him with trepidation, lifts the corners of his mouth in hope. It makes up almost every single one of his thoughts.  
"Sir, sorry to interrupt, but you're needed in the field." His secretary prompted. With a start and a glance at his watch the agent stands. He straightens his lapels with steady hands, nodding his thanks to Lorraine before the door to his office is once again closed. With precision and haste, he gathers his necessities. Badge. Wallet. Phone. Sunglasses. Satchel. Gun. Once prepared, he makes his way through the office building, leaving through the basement garage in his car. With the push of a button on his steering wheel, Zayn's phone is called.  
"Shoot" He commands as soon as the line is answered.  
"47 The Bishops Ave, N2 0BN." Zayn informs immediately. The agent programs the satnav, seeing the house is only 30 minutes away.  
"What're we dealing with?" He asks, needing to know just what he must prepare for.   
"Jerome Poole's not so humble abode. Tech were able to identify the plate on the Merc. Any guesses on who it belonged to?" 

So this is it, Louis thinks as he pulls up. Big place, though you can't see any of it for the tall dense shrubbery in its surrounding. The brick isn’t cheaply replicated, the grass isn’t overly lush. It’s set amongst wealth, blending well with grandeur and yet not overly extravagant.  
The driveway is short, just as they all are on London properties, however Louis will bet that the garden is a large and green expanse.  
He knows that Mr. Poole has fathered a 7-year-old daughter. The thought of her innocence being crushed by this mess makes him sick.  
At the top of a gravel driveway is a heavy oak door. It's hugged by a curving frame. A pair of half-sized yellow wellingtons lie on the mat.  
They welcome him into tall ceilings and light-washed floorboards. A small coffee table to the right holds a key dish. Above it towers a coat stand, knitted scarves draped over each hook. A child’s raincoat hung from the bottom rung.  
It's difficult to ignore. 

A ground-floor office backs to a pantry. The room appears to be thoroughly stocked, all items well within their expiration dates. Family packets of breakfast cereals have been left open, milk still sitting in the fridge.  
It takes him less than a minute to recognize the first clue.  
The back wall is stocked with light items, crisp packets and rice crackers and such. A notch in the corner of the shelf is the next give-away.  
After much shuffling, the back panel of the shelf slides away. It's done with great difficulty, a result of over-zealous DIY. Louis guesses that Mr. Poole did the job himself, resulting in a tighter fit than was necessary. (He was probably overly keen for secrecy).  
The space may be empty, but the looming evidence all points to the same conclusion. If this wasn't the home for illegal firearms, then Louis is in the wrong profession. 

Despite searching to house top to bottom, they are unable to find any real evidence of Mr Poole being involved with La Rouge. Not one trace was left, not a laptop nor a scrap of paper, every security camera was wiped clean. Whether it be by fluke or skill, the man had managed a success in covering the tracks. (Although frustrating, this does work in Louis favor. It means that Jerome is aware of his guilt, making him vulnerable to mistake).  
In other news regarding Mr Payne being shot, the criminal must not have been quite so successful with covering those tracks. Tire tracks. Indentations in the pebbles left by a Mercedes to be specific. Once measured and matched, they belong to the same Merc from the shooting.


	6. Stable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A full main course of Larry. And a little side of espionage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello :-) I have to admit that this chapter is fully self-indulgent, and consists of like 110% fluff. Hope it's still enjoyable!  
> All the love C.J xxx

Several days follow with little to no real progress made on the Jerome case. Much to his frustration, Louis works on it seemingly fruitlessly, making no real breakthroughs at all. No matter where he looks, he just can not seem to find the bloke, and he’s becoming increasingly unsettled as time stretches on. He can't afford to let this man walk free too much longer. Louis knows that with every free step the criminal takes, he draws closer to La Rouge. 

And then it happens. 

“Zayn. I’ve found him.” He gushed in revelation. His hand grasps a clump of his fringe in a tight fist.  
Scotland. Why didn’t he think of Scotland? It’s so obvious. Take a flight. No passport needed. Stay in the UK. Remain hidden.  
Old Stable House. Kerry Park Rd. Inveraray.  
“Call a meeting then E” Zayn replies with a stoic level-headed tone. Louis knows he’s secretly excited.  


In a bright airy meeting room on the 42nd floor of the building, a team of 8 assemble. Crisp suits and white shirts are worn all round, all eyes focused on the Elite Agent. In seconds of thought however, they might glance to find the limitless London skyline. They might take in the cool-toned silvers and greys that the space is sprinkled with. The smooth hard wood surfaces each with a glossy finish. The dark grey carpet zig-zagged with lines of cream.  
At the front and center of it all is Louis, talking with sincerity in every word. He's the picture of professional, commanding everyone's attention in a way that only he could.  
If they were to look a little closer still, they'd see the spark in his eye. Its one of triumph and excitement thanks to the breakthrough on the case, but it equally holds a happiness that is completely separated from his work. He seems to hold himself more upright than he had ever before- like he has an extra pinch of life running in his veins.  
"To summarize then, we plan to leave tomorrow morning at 0800. We fly to Glasgow, then from there we will make our way in company vehicles. We need to telephone ahead to make sure that we have suitable support from local officers before we make a visit to Mr. Poole's hideout. Any questions? Suggestions?" The agent inquires with a pause, scanning the room to ensure that no one looks confused. When he deems everything settled, he begins speaking once more.  
"Great stuff. Thanks everyone, enjoy the rest of your day" He concludes, nodding his head to the room before he turns to gather his belongings.  
Louis always did love a field trip. 

One of the other loves of the agents life has to be tea. He drinks tea no matter the weather, no matter the time, no matter his mood. In his opinion the drink is a perfection. What can he say? His mother has raised him well.  
It's mostly a necessity, and with his schedule clear until the next morning, he sees no reason why he shouldn't treat himself to a hot brew and a perch by a coffee-shop window. People watching sounds much better than being stuck in his flat.  
He decides that he will stay close, enjoy the bakery near the office that he'd been wanting to try since he came back to London. It must be new, as he is sure that the space was always home to a furniture shop before now. Maybe he can treat himself to something sweet! Lord knows the pastries in the windows are desirable, sweet cream buns, eclairs and almond croissants just calling out to each passer by. He might be a little too distracted by them however, when he completely disregards his surroundings and misses the door swinging open just as he is about to grab the handle. "Sorry!" He squeaks, only narrowly avoiding walking straight into someone. A pink hue flushes his cheeks in embarrassment.  
He gathers his wits again just in time to get his breath snatched again. "Harry!" He gasps, eyes lighting up with joy. Without thought, he throws his arms up and links them around the taller mans neck. It makes the tall man stumble a little with the unexpected weight, laughter bubbling up when he finally rights them again.  
"Hi Loubear" He murmurs, using a nickname that the older boy hasn't heard since he was a child.  
"That name died a long time ago" He replies, smacking at his friend with a frown.  
"Okay Loubear" Harry replies without a care. He'd saved Louis in his phone with that very name, and you bet he was going to use it.  
"How long have you been coming here?" Louis changes the topic while forcing his smile into an expression of intrigue.  
"Few months. I have a mate who works at the till." Comes his response.  
"You have friends everywhere" The agent levels in an unimpressed tone. "Anyway, unless your busy you're obligated to spend time with me."  
"Of course." Harry remarked with a sparkle in his smile. "Want to come back to mine?" He asks with only a sprinkle of hesitation. Louis looks at him like he's a magical, mythical being.

"Make a right here" His deep voice instructs, interrupting the smaller boys ramble. He'd been talking about tea, or something. Harry was a little distracted by the movement of his lips. He's taken back by the way he'd aged. Can't get over the shadow of stubble on his jaw and his darkened hair, nor the softness of his voice and the daintiness that he sees. When you first set your eyes on the boy, he reeks of masculinity. He has a wide stance and a tailored suit, a heavy watch strapped around his wrist and a leather satchel. However with a little more attention to detail, you find a softness that comes unexpected. He has a high voice and a clean shave and a small figure. He's short and curvy with the tiniest hands and the daintiest ankles. His smile is infectious and his excitement is childish. All of these traits point to a different interior- one which is soft and carefully hidden.  
"What?" Louis asks, baffled for a second by Harry's silent stare.  
"Nothing." The admirer assures, "I'm the second house on the left" He explains, drawing the conversation to a pause. 

"Lou, it's so late what the heck" Harry whines, mourning the loss of his beautiful sleep. They'd spent a long afternoon talking about this, that, and everything, indulging in each other's presence. It was late now though, the sun had set a long time ago, and they were both half asleep. Harry always was a grouch when he got tired.  
"Shhhh, you're being too loud" Louis quips back, acting like he isn't the one throwing kernels of popcorn at the curly lad in search for attention. The movie they had been watching has been long forgotten, with Harry falling asleep and Louis too busy staring at him.  
"What do you want?" Harry snaps after yet another piece of Louis ammunition sticks to his forehead. The disgruntlement in his tone receives little acknowledgement though, as Louis gets bored again and shifts his target to the tip of his friends nose. He's been strangely accurate with his aim.  
"Right. That's it." Harry's patients finally runs short, and he stands before marching over to the mischievous boy. He takes the bowl of popcorn from his hands and before he can react, tips every remaining kernel over his head. A shower of crumbs get stuck in his hair.  
"That was mean!" Louis shrieks in offence. He swipes at the offenders chest but his wrists get caught before he can make contact. Damn Harry and his big hands. He wriggles them free and then immediately gets caught again. With both of his wrists in one gigantic hand, Harry has five free fingers to dig into Louis side.  
"No! Stop!" He pleads through a cackling giggle, fighting with all of his strength to pull his arms away.  
"Well maybe if you weren't such a twat, you wouldn't be in this situation" The attacker teases, leaning down to pin Louis legs to the sofa when he begins kicking. He does stop tickling now though, pausing to watch as the boy below him sticks his tongue out. Because he is a mature man, he definitely doesn't do it right back. They both have sparkling eyes, lying there like a pair of goons without a care in the world. Their eyes are heavy thanks to the late hour, their cheeks flushed from the heavy blanket and the heating cranked up. Louis sighs.  
"Do I have to go?" He whines, blue eyes rounded in a puppy-dog pout. The man above him was already weak enough.  
"Sleepover?" He tries, resting his head on Louis shoulder before he does something stupid.  
"Only if we can cuddle" Is the wager, though Harry was quite aware they would be doing just that anyway. They've always had a cuddly relationship, and even as babies they shared a bed. In reply, he nudges his nose into the material of his shirt, already so familiar with how it smells.  
"Deal" He whispers, heart throbbing with all the things he wants to do.


End file.
